


Cheer Up

by susiephalange



Series: It's A Hunter's Life [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Author regrets nothing, BAMF Reader, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, References to Teen Wolf (TV), The Vinculum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a tense life for you - how are you still standing after what happened to the both of you? So it's decided: Dean and you have had enough excitement for a lifetime or two, and that can only mean one thing - settling down. And you're taking the resident angel, to be civilians. It's cookie-cutter, cute; borderline chick-flick...yet, as always, trouble finds  Winchesters, and, so it seems, you.  </p><p>Because maybe, you and Dean aren't supposed to live quiet, comfy lives. </p><p>And God, He can't take a hint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back To Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Read the previous book, 'Tough Love' before this. It will make more sense.

You woke up with a scream, panting just like you had run across the United States and back in record timing. As your eyes flashed open, taking in the dimly lit - full moon at that moment - bedroom you were situated in the middle of, you felt for the form of Dean Winchester beside you beneath the covers.

When your hand felt nothing but cold sheets beneath the palm, you remembered: he was on a hunt. Out.

As the howl of a wolf nearby from the concrete streets got to your ears closely followed by the lone shot of a gun, you let the lids of your tired eyes sag closed again. Yourself and Dean had gone off to Minneapolis to hunt an extremely rouge werewolf and by the sounds of what was going on in the backstreets below the rented motel room, the hunt was going well.

But you couldn't go back to sleep again.

That was the thing, these days. Since God had come to yours and Dean's house and told you all that made the nightmare rendered moot to become what happened in reality, you'd get flashbacks of what had happened in the 'dream'. Dean going to hell. A soulless Sam. The feeling of -

You let out a tremor by accident and with that, a small squeak of terror. It was when you were left alone you tendered to the wounds that were internal. The doctors you'd been too - at the urging of your closest hunting friends and Dean - had deduced you down to be jumpy and 'in dire need for medication', to quote what the doctors had said.

Even though he wasn't there with you, you crawled to his dimly warm side of the sheets and sunk your head into his pillow, aching for his scent to make you numb enough to rest once more.

You must have gone back to sleep because when you heard the room door slam shut behind the intruder, you sat straight up about to scream bloody murder if it wasn't for you noticing who it was.

"Dean...?" you murmured.

"Heyyy, hey, ______, it was just me closing the door, its okay, I promise," Dean's voice came from the foot of the bed. "You can go back to sleep."

"Did - did you get the wolf?" You yawned, slowly sinking back into the uncomfortable motel bed.

In the light of the moon, your eyes focused on the form of your boyfriend the Hunter as he rid himself of the bloodstained and ripped clothes he was in, substituting the jeans and T-shirt for boxers. "Yep, I got her."

"I think I heard it," you whispered back tiredly. "You need a new silencer. I think...the whole of Minneapolis heard."

Dean grunted in agreement.

Turning in the bed toward your now cooler side, you suddenly felt the bed dip under Dean's added weight and a pair of hands encircling your waist. Involuntary, you felt yourself shiver as a part of the aftermath of the nightmare.

"Still getting those bad dreams?" you heard him murmur into your neck as you snuggled.

"Yeah," you spoke in a hushed tone sleepily. "It's a pity I can't hunt with you though. I miss it all."

Dean huffed into your hair in an unamused laugh. "When you get your feet back on the ground and stop getting the nightmares, you're cleared to hunt, ______."

You turned to face Dean, and searching his apple green eyes for a second, snuggled your head into his neck.

"I'll hold you to that, Winchester," you whispered back, and felt yourself seeping back to sleep. "Good night."

But he stirred beside you, almost refusing to get some shut-eye and whispered loudly, "How about when we wait for you to cool off the bad dreams, we go to ground? Like ordinary Joes."

Blearily you opened an eye and taking a deep breath, you asked, "You wouldn't be able to hunt in the meanwhile, though." You yawned once more, "Unless you did cross-country cases...we could play house."

You didn't see Dean's smile, you felt it.

"Always wanted to do that," he spoke up.

"Then it's settled. In the morning, pick a town, and we'll hang there until my dreams blow over. Act all ordinary and...stuff." You buried your head into his neck and took a sleepily deep breath. "'Night, Dean."

"Night, _______."


	2. Going Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Reader must further the plot by domesticating themselves.

You wake the next morning to car horns and the general rumble of humanity and the first thing you notice is that you not in the motel room - but in the familiar smell of the crackled leather passenger seat of the Impala. As disoriented as you are, you come to realise one, you're alone and two, there is a shrill jingle coming from the cheap phone in your pocket.

Donuts or bagels? the text reads from an unknown number. Frowning, wondering why a wrong number has texted you breakfast foods, you haste a reply back;

Dean?

Almost immediately the reply comes in, Himself. Donuts or bagels?

Both, you text back with heavily lidded eyes, stifling a yawn with your eyes grazing over the suburban lifestyle of Minnesota. 

and pie. AND COFFEE. How long was I asleep??? How did I get into the car??

As you sit upright the next chime comes in, making you smile, 

I never forget the pie, already got coffee. 10 hours, Sleeping Beauty. I carried you.

Ten hours? A record. Your usual six to four hours was trumped compared to that. 

Well. You felt better, certainly.

And Dean carried you? Your mind wanders to the question of whether it was like a very unglamorous sack of potatoes over the shoulder or the classic bridal style.

You leave it to question for later in the back of your mind but before you can store it, a tap on the glass makes you jump almost out of your skin. But seeing it was only Dean, you sighed as deep as the lines of the now crinkled shirt thanks to sleeping on it and manually unlocked his side. You smelt the goods of breakfast before seeing it.

Ah, coffee. Perfect.

"So how's my baby going today?" He smiles, passing you half the breakfast foods and settling into the front seat.

"Should get her checked for mileage, we've been across the country like, three times in the last two weeks." You retort quickly, talking about the Impala instead. With careful fingers you pry a donut from the bag and sink your teeth in.

Dean laughed, "Wrong baby," he grinned, kissing your cheek with the little flour of the bagel on his lips. It felt like an angel's kiss. "Okay, how's my darlin'?"

You giggle, and both take sips of the coffee. "Better than ever. Let's go house hunting. But first of all, let's find a state to live in. One we agree on. And a good last name. Gotta change it..."

Almost inhaling the coffee via nose, you watch Dean splutter. "Change names? What are we in, a kids detective chapter book?"

You rolled your eyes slightly and gave a glance to your watch absentmindedly, "You mightn't think it, Dean, but with a changed name could throw off the authorities. You know you're kinda still blacklisted."

He huffed. "Fine. We'll do all of this, the name, the house, the play pretend, but we gotta have Cas."

You frown, "...tiel? Why? He was a part of the God-plot before, remember? The one which meant you and I couldn't be together?" There's a shift in the back seat and in the rear mirror you flinch to see Castiel with his trench coat and puppy eyes. "Holy -,"

"I deeply apologise for what I had done before, ______. I was doing duty as an angel of the lord, and as a soldier. I am sorry." Cas's voice broke in the middle, and your heart dipped.

"You need Cas for protection." Dean reminded you, "As much as you don't think it, you're not up to ganking the crazy weird at the moment."

You nodded. "Okay. But Cas poses as my older brother."

"Done." Dean accepts. "And we are ______ and Dean Wesson. And Cas...he can be..."

You sat up straighter. "Jimmy. That's your vessal, right?"

"It's agreed on then." Dean grins. "Let's go."


	3. Ordinary Civillians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Reader play house with an angel on their shoulder.

As soon as the three of you cease the seemingly never ending road trip from Minnesota to California - a straight drive, with Dean at the wheel, regardless of where the sun sits on the horizon - Dean had gone into the apartment block to negotiate the prices. Meaning you were left with Cas duty, or as you saw it, stay out of sight and change into less suspicious clothes that wouldn't make the local demons and nosy neighbours notice you.

Translation: ten minutes alone with Cas and many attempts to get him dressed into Dean's older shirts and pants to pass as a normal low-wage worker in today's society.

"This is good," you smiled

"No, this is very large," Cas frowned at the slacks he had just put on, "Are you sure this is how to stay out of view? These clothes are surely going to get us all found out."

"No, it's the fashion these days. Kinda like tunics on men and women two thousand years ago. "You shrugged. "Most guys these days around here wear too-big pants, Cas. It'll be okay. But the suit and tie are nice, you can keep them. Might need them for something later."

"Fine," He frowned, looking over your change of clothes - from beat up plaid shirt to a secondhand cute off-white blouse picked up at a thrift shop with a narrow blue pencil skirt. "How are you blending in with that?"

You laughed. "Heck, Cas, I'd never wear this unless I was working in the...I don't know, a really highly paid job," you paused, fixing the skirt, "anyone who knows me personally or even a little bit at all won't look for me in clothes that need ironing."

Cas nodded. "I sense Dean has fixed an appropriate price for the living area." He frowned, and added, gathering a bundle from the seat beside him, "you may borrow my vessel's trench coat if you wish, ______."

You grinned. "Really?"

At that, Cas evaporated, leaving you to shrug on the beige piece of clothing.

"Cool," you whisperer to yourself in the rearview mirror, looking at your reflection.

But almost as soon as he was gone, it seemed he and Dean had returned by foot, keys in hand.

"You're back! Is it settled?"

"_______," Dean smiled, kissing your brow as you got out of the Impala. "The landlord just wants to meet both of us, because apparently, the main relationship couple in a shared apartment are priority rather than two who aren't."

You nodded. "I'm bringing the demon knife, though..." you let the hilt peek out of the coat sleeve. "...and a flask of holy water. Would an angel blade be too much as well?"

Dean nodded, crinkling his eyes as if to say, yeah, just a bit.

"So," you scuffed your shoes against the pavement, "Which floor have we scored?"

Dean's grin turned goofy. "Third. From ground level."

You mussed his hair and laid a kiss on his nose. "We're like ordinary civilians now, Dean," you bubbled. "I'll get back to normal, Cas gets down time and you get a deserved rest."

"_______ -," Dean interjected.

"I know," you winced, standing tall, ready to meet your new landlord and possibly a new threat. "Time to meet the landlord. Hope he's nice."


	4. Novice At Normalacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the landlord, wearing the trench coat...the family business?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for anagrams

As you opened the door for the apartment your eyes took in the (f/c) painted walls and the dark brown wooden floors and tall windows. If it weren't for the repainted walls, the apartment would have looked straight out of the '70's.

Then you saw the landlord in the middle of the room - he had dark hair and honey coloured eyes and a friendly smile behind a thick, droopy moustache; wore a professional looking suit with a tie patterned with rainbow fishes on it.

"You must be _____!" He grinned, striding forward to shake your hand. "Dean here has said a lot about you. Now, I can see why you need this place, its a great location to hit the hay after work. Big enough for your brother too, maybe even a little one..."

You laughed, but remembering the memory wipe God had given the pair of you, a chill danced down your spine, "We're not looking - I mean - not thinking of kids..."

Dean laid a hand on your shoulder. "Not for a while, anyway. Now, Mr Leirbag, what price are you thinking for rent?"

You frowned. Leirbag. Weird name.

But after this, you seemed to zone out, glancing around the apartment. You could picture yourself making pancakes on the two burner stove, and the corner by the window - you suddenly saw you and Dean with the laptop, teaching Cas human conventions.

"That should be all, I think," Mr Leirbag grinned, and turned to you, "Well, Dean, ______, consider the place yours. Rent's on Thursdays, after I come back from Pilates with Beth."

"Awesome," Dean grinned. "See you Thursday."

 

 

Understandably, the next few days were bedlam. Castiel caught fire half the kitchen after spilling lighter fluid, Dean found work as a mechanic down the road a little way, and you couldn't help but wake every night in a sweat, unable to distinguish the dreams of what horrors God had put you and Dean through to where you were now.

It worked out alright in the end, it always did. Castiel extinguished the fire with his grace, Dean found time around his eleven hour work day ("Two shifts back to back are worth it, we need a little money") to be with you, even if he was flat-out tired, and you found yourself keeping a little journal, to write back every flashback in as much detail as you could remember.

The three of you, veterans of a war nobody believed existed, were novices at normalcy.

But you got through.

"It's Wednesday!" You turn to Dean. It's barely six a.m. and the sun hasn't officially risen yet, and by all means, you wouldn't ever be up at this hour. But Dean leaves at six thirty to work the shop, and it's nice to get some Dean time.

"Yeah, it's Wednesday." He agrees. Unlike you, he's one thing short of being a zombie in the morning, and any cheer he gives off is faked. "What's so good about Wednesday's?"

You shrug, turning to the fridge. Most of the food will spoil soon, so you go to make a big breakfast so it's all used well. "I don't know. I just think it's a cool day."

He grins. "Just a cool day?"

You nod. "Also, I was wondering if -,"

"Good morning, _______, Dean," Cas interrupts, shuffling in. Angels don't need sleep, yet he looks as scruffy and tired as the next guy. "I trust you slept well?"

Dean snorts. "Yeah, buddy, we slept well."

You roll your eyes. "Thank you for asking, Castiel." You go to whisk the eggs to make scrambled eggs, and add, "Do you feel like today's going to be a good day too, Castiel?" You ask him.

The angel smiles, albeit little. "It always is, with friends like you around."


	5. Walk In The Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy times, Castiel and Dean and Reader make their way...to the park!

Three weeks pass in ease; Mr Leirbag comes to collect every Thursday in his Pilate clothes, which, look exactly like his ugly tie, but tight against his body and the neckline low enough to see chest hair. Dean's work hours lessen to a point where he isn't exhausted all the time, but now his work mates know him enough to have inside jokes and a decent amount of trust.

Castiel, has taken up refusing to sleep, because, he says: 'I'm an angel of the lord. I don't need sleep'. And instead, taught himself how to draw - he was terrible at first, like a toddler - but now makes pieces good enough to sell down at the coffee shop's quaint art gallery on the corner. His main theme: bees.

Meanwhile their lives were spectacular, you could complain. Yes, you were inside all day with Cas, trying to be nice about his art, but after three weeks, it was like house arrest. So, when Dean announces a day off tomorrow - you jump at the chance.

"Could we go to the park?" You ask him.

Dean frowns. He isn't much of a park guy. Neither is Cas, but they've spent their time in many a playground across the states. The look in his eyes makes you realise that you're not too much of a park person either.

"Why?" He wonders, taking off his work shirt. It was saturated in sweat, the same as his white wife beater underneath. "I thought we'd just chill out with a movie, maybe pop some corn -,"

Castiel comes in from the other room. He grunts. "I believe what _____ is imploring is getting out of the house." He looks up at the pair of you with his baby blues, "She's been in here a long time."

You smile weakly.

Dean sighs. "I thought the whole idea of laying low meant not going out?"

You huff. "Says you! You've got a job and still go by your own name!"

He folds his arms. "Yeah, not Dean Winchester though. We're the Wesson's. It's hard answering to that! Reminds me of that Zachariah scum -,"

Castiel grunts again. "He was my brother!" He protests.

You raise your hands. "Please, don't fight. All I ask is just one trip to the park. I'll wear a disguise, a really good one. If I spend another day in here I swear I'm going to go and explode or send a signal to a den of djinn so I'll have something to do. Comprende?"

Dean comprende's.

 

 

What do you call an angel and two ex-hunters who go to the park? You weren't sure if there was a punchline to that joke, or if they already were one. Because the next day, you found yourself, Dean and Castiel at the corner store buying cheapest loaf of bread and walking with a picnic basket to the park.

"It's a lovely day," Castiel smiled, putting down the blanket. "I want to draw the flowers."

Sitting, Dean waved his hand to his friend, "Go draw, buddy, knock yourself out."

As Cas walked away, you lowered yourself to Dean's side, and smiled. It was perfect; the perfect temperature, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect moment.

You sighed.

"Don't you like the park?" Dean turns his head to look at you, a quizzical tone in his question.

You shake your head. "No, no, that's not a sigh of boredom. That's relief."

He rolls his eyes. "You've been holed into the nicest shack we've ever found for us, with a great TV and your own guardian angel," the pair of you glance down the blanket to see Castiel, sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, sketching the insects in the patch of clovers, "What more could a lucky gal who gets to sleep with me could want?" He winks.

You take a deep breath. Fresh air, you mentally list. Maybe a friend who isn't clued into all the freaky monster stuff, a puppy with eyes like Dean -

You shrug. "I only sleep with you because you're my boyfriend. And I love you." You smirk, kissing his jaw.

Dean frowns. "Are you sure? Because I have a girlfriend. She's funny, smart," he glances at you, "Hot as hell, where incidentally, I've been, so I know how hot she is. She's great at listening, and even better at mediating," he lists, his eyes giving a far away look that you know means he's off in his thoughts, "And," he ends, "you happen to be that unnaturally talented woman."

There's a blush over your cheeks as you wave off his compliments.

"No! Don't - don't play it down. You're honestly my best friend, _______."

You frown. "I thought Cas was your best friend?"

Dean snorts. "You can have more than one best friend, silly. It's a good thing that I happen to love you, because," he bends his head to kiss your neck, inhaling your scent, "You're still really bad at poker."

You still. "But you taught me how to play!" You cry out, noticing the untouched loaf of bread in the basket, dive for it.

"Touché," he winks, and at the same time you move for the bread, he goes to kiss you. "Babe," he pouts, "Come back and kiss me."

You shake your head. "I want to feed the ducks."

Dean gives you a look that you take as a calculation of how to get a kiss out of you, and get the ducks in the pond their share of the loaf.

"How about," he says after a pause, "We take a walk in the park? You get to feed the duckies, we get Cas to watch the mat and stuff, and I can take you," he points to a point in pathway where it goes to become a 'nature walk' in the thicket of trees, "We kiss there."

You still. "Only if the kiss is wildly inappropriate for public display." You propose.

Dean grins. "Deal."

You shake your head. "You can't say deal without a kiss."

His eyes light up. "I'm not arguing!" He laughs.


	6. Dr Sexy M. D. and Duck Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean loves Dr Sexy. Reader wants to know if Cas needs to explain how he got a duck bite. And plot twist??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story!

"...I wasn't aware of it to be possible that ducks could bite," Castiel held his hand to his chest. Though angels like himself were impervious to pain, it seemed the blue-eyed darling was more betrayed than inflicted with injury from his feathered friends turned fiends.

"I wasn't aware of that either," you pat his shoulder, feeling slightly concerned for him. "Do you need an ice pack or a bandaid -,"

Dean shrugged. "He's an angel, he'll be fine."

You wince, inspecting Castiel's hand. There was only a red mark now, fading quickly. Dean was right, but the way he put it wasn't sympathetic at all. "Just kiss is better," you tell him softly. "Run it under cold water and then join us. We're watching," you turn back to Dean, and inspect the screen.

"Dr Sexy M. D." Dean beams. You reach over to him, and kiss his brow. Your boyfriend, the hunter, the warrior trained for battle he's managed to avoid being a pawn in, is nothing more than a big softie. "The only good show ever."

"Glad I got you the box set?" You whisper to Dean. For most of your time together, that had been an empty promise. But not now. "You look it."

In this world, there are nerds. And then there's Dean - skilled in mechanics, enamoured by role play cosplay and TV dramas, and when given a blade, the best hunter on the block.

On screen, a patient named Mariana is being treated for a burn from holding a pot of boiling water. The actress shows no limit for her character's adoration for the doctor treating her wounds; Dr Sexy.

"Oh Doctor," she gasps on screen, putting her burnt hands on his chest. "Whatever would I do without you?"

Beside you, you feel Dean shift, moving toward the TV. He mouths alongside the doctor, who scoops her up and kisses her - "Mariana, you'll never have to know what that's like."

"What is so appealing of this cowboy boot-wearing human?" Castiel breaks the mood.

Dean doesn't seem to hear him, eyes not moving from the screen.

The angel moves toward you to sit, and with his hand bandaged, waits for your answer. "I think it's because he's very smooth, and professional at his job," you whisper to Cas. "The boots add sex appeal."

He frowns, connecting the dots. "Like the pizza man and the babysitter?"

The three of you had sworn that the event of Castiel finding Dean's box of DVDs wouldn't ever be spoken of again, and as you realised what was happening, nodded silently.

"Doctor! Come quick, it's Nurse Michael! Something's gone wrong, he's stuck!" An extra with familiar curls and wide, brown eyes pages Doctor Sexy. On screen, Mariana looks more than distressed to see her lover go.

"Stuck?" Dean mouths alongside Dr Sexy.

"His brother from the other hospital just transferred, Nurse Luke Cipher. And then there was an incident, and Michael and Luke are stuck in the garbage shaft."

Castiel is silent. You frown. You were sure, last time you watched this, back when it aired between hunts with Dean that it had been different. Dean doesn't seem to be fazed.

"I'll be back, Dean," you touch his shoulder lightly, not able to shake the feeling that something very wrong is about to happen. "Forgot we hadn't...sorted laundry."

He doesn't move. "It's okay. I'll help when I finish watching this."

You move away from the television, skirting around the horribly painted walls too stand at the front window, the clean washing basket untouched by your feet. Michael. Luke Cipher. Lucifer.

You whirl around to tell Dean what you've realised, but you can't. Standing there, is a face you both know and don't know, know is dead and know is very much alive by the waggle of his eyebrows and tearing off of his fake moustache.

The archangel Gabriel takes your hand before you say a word - and that's the last you see of your apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! omg!


	7. The Vinculum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *cracks knuckles* time to get this plot on the road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* what I mean, is, it's time for Reader to understand what God was on about last time they had a chat

As soon as you feel solid ground under your feet, you manage to twist away from the angel's grasp on your wrist. What have you gotten yourself into? You chide. This was supposed to be a time away from hunting with monsters and crazy theories and the creatures of God who wanted you and Dean away from each other.

"So I'm sensing you've got a lot of questions," Gabriel raises his hands in defence, palms up. "So, fire away."

"Was Mr Leirbag even a real guy? Did you kill him and take his name? Unbelievable, the archangel! Did you actually do pilates? You always mentioned a Beth, who's she, another angel?" You burst.

Gabriel grins. "First off, sweet cheeks, Gabriel spelt backwards is Leirbag. Pretty upset you never caught on. I've always been him, he's my porno persona, you know? Like," he clears his throat to give an impression, "your kielbasa is ready," and waggles his eyebrows.

"You're insane!" You tell Gabriel. "You're supposed to be dead, too!"

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Don't you know, darling? There's a rule of thumb. The best never die."

"And Beth?" You huff, turning away from him. It's then you notice that Gabriel has swept you away to the tip of the building, on the roof.

"Balth. Balthazar, to be precise, he hates nicknames. We do do pilates. It really helps with our revenge plot strategies for those who attempted to kills us."

You start. "Balthazar died?"

Gabriel face palmed. "Someone needs to Keep Up With the Kardashians," he mumbled, and placing two fingers to your temple, you froze. Millions of pictures, flashes of sound and little moments fill your mind. The King of hell, friendly with Dean. Castiel's mind filled with a new monotheism focused to worshiping him. Sam's hair, longer than ever. Suddenly it stops, and Gabriel's rolling his eyes. "That's the true purpose of what Dean and Sam Winchester have to do. They save the earth. And then they infest it with first testament abominations. And then they -,"

You can't help but fall to your knees. As Gabriel talks on about what horror the brothers are supposed to do, you can't help but see those pictures all over again in your mind, of Dean and a man with a bearded face, Dean's eyes dark, Dean finding pleasure in hunting beyond the realm of sanity.

"I didn't show you all that stuff to make you cry, doll-face," Gabriel smirked. "But he is meant to do some horrible things. That's why mine and Cas's Dad want to continue him on his path."

You are crying, he's right. But you don't let that stop you. "Do you? Does Cas?" You ask.

Gabriel sits beside you. If he wasn't a celestial being whose natural form was as large as the Chrysler building and you were a meddling love-struck ex-hunter who still had nightmares from the life God had torn her from, it would have been normal, and comforting.

But it wasn't.

So you just sat there on the roof in silence, watching the sun fade away to the other side of the hills to another hemisphere, and willed it that you and Dean wouldn't be separated again.

You had been a pretty badass hunter. He too.

But you didn't want to be remembered as some Mary Sue who cried her feelings and vented to all the wrong people.

"For the record, Castiel found me and Balthazar during a pilate class about four months ago. Got me to play the landlord, and Balthazar's your shadow. Well, you have your own shadow, ________ _______, but he's -,"

You feel a breeze rush around you. " - more charming than a real shadow, and more set on keeping you safe." An accent hits your ears, and there sitting on the other side of you is a blonde man, the Godly family smirk that Castiel hasn't mastered yet on his lips. "In a future you interrupted, I died. Made a right mess being a double agent." He clapped your back affectionately. "It's nice to be alive."

You had to agree with Balthazar. "Yeah, it's nice living, but not when your Dad's trying to break me and Dean up."

Gabriel leaned in to whisper in your ear. "Do you even know who you're supposed to be in the planned reality?"

"God didn't mention anything." You inspect your knuckles, the skin finally healing over the old constantly broken area of skin. Maybe the scars would fade now you were a normal person. "I guess he didn't want to spoiler me up."

Balthazar chuckled. "That does sound like our Dad. But no, he said it's important you know."

Somewhere nearby, you heard a thunder of footsteps. Shouting, little chaos. But it doesn't make sense to you - it's background noise, not making a mark of note. What you want to hear, to be with, is what the two angelic beings beside you have to say.

"You're supposed to be the Vinculum," the voice of Castiel rumbles behind you.

Turning, you see the two you live with. Dean has disparity in his eyes, a deeper feeling than the disappointment that he must had felt to stop an episode of Doctor Sexy M. D. halfway through, and a sadness in the way his lips are pulled.

He knows.

They all know.

They kept it from you. 

"What's a Vinculum?" You ask Gabriel.

The honey-haired angel takes a deep breath. "Vinculum traditionally means matrimony - marriage. But in this, it means a bond." Gabriel turns to Castiel. "Are you sure she's ready to hear this?"

The dark haired angel nods. "It's time."

Dean comes forward, settling himself behind you. He sits so his legs are around yours, and you lean back into his chest. Whatever news these angels have to give you, your not sure that you can take it well without your rock. You life. Your boyfriend. Dean Winchester.

"You're not just ______," Dean whispers, his breath hot on your neck, "The lore about the Vinculum says only one can live at a time. Because there only is one, reborn in different bodies, with a sole purpose."

For the second time, you feel hot tears roll down your cheeks. "What do you mean?" You whisper. "Am I the link between humanity and the supernatural?"

Dean moves your hair. "No, that's not what Cas told me. You're much more than just a human, babe."

"You're the only one who can unite demonkind and the angels to find peace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freaking love this part of the story. Hope you do to!


	8. God Save Sam Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Winchester POV! Because the Author here has let him have a vacation for a while!

Its been little over a year since Sam Winchester had a nice hot shower. Yes, he's showered in the time since leaving his brother and ______ to rehabilitate whatever experience God had put them through, but all of those showers he stood under weren't nice showers - the kind where the water pressure is just right, and the knobs adjust the heat more than on the general scale of scalding to chilling...and if he was being picky, tall enough for him. Sam even dreamed of a shower, one night, and woke to think of something his father John Winchester would have said - it's just a shower. You've gone without worse luxuries, son.

But more than a shower, Sam misses his brother. And the carefree ______ ______ who had fooled them back in that diner a few years ago that she wasn't one of Bobby Singer's better protégés/only daughter. How she brought out the jokey side of Dean, and he the light back into her eyes.

Why Sam is thinking of showers and his brother's longtime girlfriend mid-hunt is beyond him. Maybe it's like in the movies how the hero gets flashbacks of what they would miss if they die, just before they die. Or maybe he genuinely wants to, as his father would say, get killed, boy.

It had started off simple, a salt and burn. Turned out the ghost was the grandmother of a local banshee, a young girl with long strawberry blonde hair he'd interviewed for the hunt, and she wanted vengeance. Sam understood. It was personal for her. If his family's remains were destroyed, he'd be pissed too.

The thing was, he didn't know this end of Beacon Country, California as she did, and it seemed worthless, hopeless to try and run when she knew the area better. Without glancing back, Sam knows she's gaining on him. He's confused for a second, because - have more joined her?

Peeking, he sees three wolves - werewolves - around her.

"Oh God," he utters. Sam has a feeling he's walked into the wrong pack. All of his military-like training and the years of rote learning how to get out alive have evaporated. He knows this is the end.

They're gaining on him. He can hear the wolves' snarls. Their growls. What kind of pack are they?

And suddenly, it all stops.

Like a bad movie where he's stuck in a freeze frame, Sam can't believe his eyes. Cautiously, he turns and gasps. The chase has been halted, the teenaged wolves and the banshee stopped mid leap. If they had continued, Sam knew that he'd become chow for them.

"Wasn't quite the call was expecting, but I came," a familiar voice says beside Sam.

He starts, and turning, sees someone he thought to be dead. Standing there, still curly haired and wide eyed with eyes the colour of chocolate, or black coffee, is Chuck. Chuck-the-prophet who Sam and his brother couldn't save.

"God! Chuck?" Sam breathed.

"All jokes aside, I'm the first, not the second. It's high time I finally tell you guys that Chuck was just me. Kevin Tran is the first prophet." The bearded man smiled.

"Who?" Sam frowned.

"You'll meet him soon. But that's beside the point! The Vinculum, _______ ______ has awoken. She's aware of her true purpose, and needs all the guidance for her journey ahead."

Sam's frown deepened. "______? What's a Vinculum? I thought she was a prophet? What -,"

Chuck shook his head. "I did say, I had plans for her, didn't I?" He beamed. And before Sam could say another word, the powerful deity had reached up and touched Sam's temple.

Sam went to protest, but he found he couldn't. Mainly because God wasn't there to protest against, and that he was standing in the middle of an apartment block's roof, in some city and there weren't any wolves and their banshee friend behind him anymore. Glancing down the side of the building, he saw his car, parked beside a familiar Impala.

"What -," Sam frowned.

"Sammy? Where've you been? We've missed you!" He turned, and behind him, stood a band of familiar faces. His brother's freckled cheeks, ______'s (h/c) hair, Castiel's bright eyes, Gabriel's smirk, Balthazar's lithe form. "Sam?"

He blinked, and instead of welcoming his brother, walked to ______. He watched her for a moment; it's been ages since he, Dean and ______ had been together. But from what God told him, he can't find any time for pleasantries.

"God has plans for you," he breathes, "You are The Vinculum, aren't you?"

______ nods. "I found out, like, thirty seconds ago. Where'd you come from? Did you speak with God-Chuck?" She asks him. Sam can't help but think she looks so much more tired than the last time they'd been hunting together.

"Yeah. It's weird." Sam admits, and turning to his brother, gives him the biggest hug he can give - which is pretty big, since he's above 6ft. "I thought she was a prophet, though? It's so confusing."

Dean nods. "Who knew this one can unite demons and angels? Who'd have thought?"

Balthazar laughs, but it sounds like a hiccup. "I knew, for the record."

Sam glances to the blonde wine-loving angel, just as Castiel frowns at his brother. Sam's sure that if Castiel was one to use physical methods of atonement to chasten others, Sam would be sure to have seen him whack the back of his head for the unnecessary comment.

"So, what, now I have a Council of Elrond because I've found out that I can't run away from my problems anymore?" ______ broke the silence that was bordering on awkward. "What now?"

"You save the world." Castiel stated.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "So dramatic! First, ______, Dean - I suggest we go downstairs to your lovely apartment and make an exit plan." The honey-haired angel suggested.

Sam hummed. "Exit plan?"

"Now ______ is aware of what she is, and what daddy dearest has planned for her, she's a beacon. A radar that all monsters and magical stuff now can gravitate toward." He grinned grimly. "So, ladies first?" He gestured to the fire escape.

Sam was joined by Castiel on the way to the exit. "As much as Gabriel claims it, he's more dramatic than me," he assured Sam. "Like what Dean said, we've missed you. It's good to have you back." He drew the younger Winchester in for a hug. "Sam! You need a shower, what have you been doing, running with wolves?" The angel waved his nose.

Sam couldn't argue. A shower would be blissful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam Winchester (●´ω｀●)


	9. Dean Doesn't Understand 'The Chosen One' Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Reader have the angelic gang and Team Free Will back together. But will someone please tell the uninvited to please just knock on the door and wait to be let in like normal people? It's starting to get on Dean's nerves.

You started living in this awful apartment, this secluded safe haven with not too much more than the clothes on all of your backs. Now, it seems, the place has swelled up to accumulate so much stuff - which, yes, makes the decor look amazing - but is a major pain in the ass to pack.

"Why do you have these?" Castiel frowned at the pair of knickers he fished from your underwear draw, dumping them and the others in the duffle bag. "It's so small. What does it cover?"

You snatch the bag away to keep doing that sector, trading him to finish the sweatpants and jeans.

"Those kind of things are worn underneath, Cas, they're not supposed to cover, but protect modesty," Balthazar rolled his eyes, sliding out the closet. "Besides, you don't just go through a woman's undergarments and ask questions like that. That's rude."

You nod with Balth. "Yeah...but it's okay Cas. I'm sure you've not seen anyone in their underwear, you're just curious."

The dark haired angel coughed. "I once came into a hotel without warning Sam and Dean, but theirs are different to your flowery undergarments."

Balth's eyes widened as much as your eyebrows found your hairline.

"Let's talk about something else, should we?" You suggest weakly, doing your best to avert the awkward situation. "..."

In the next room, Dean couldn't hear a thing of what you and the two angels were talking about; for which you were glad. It would only have distracted him from what plans he and Gabriel were making to get you safely from the house without catching the attention of monsters and other magical creatures.

"I know of a safe haven you can go to," Gabriel grinned grimly. "This was a safe house, believe it or not...the spell's are worn off, since ______ had been activated, but the other places would keep her safe."

His avocado eyes listened with ever intent to have a plan without a hiccup. But Dean had to ask a question. "Where's this safe house? I don't want to be playing 'follow the leader' when it comes to this evac plan."

Gabriel hums in agreement. "Maine."

Dean's eyebrows shoot upwards. "Maine?" Maine!" He repeats. From what cases he's done that area of the states, he doesn't think you'll like it that much. Or be accustomed to the -

"Maine. Or it's Washington state, if you want to get your Twilight on." He waggles his eyebrows.

Dean doesn't want to get his Twilight on. His and his brother's jobs are to kill the supernatural who step out of line and harm humans. His girlfriend's, however, is to bridge the balance between all species of monster and man, all anarchic creatures and angels. He doesn't want to cause a fight, because thats what will draw the attention to _______'s newfound 'superpowers'.

"Maine it is." Dean nods curtly, and leaves Gabe to sketch out the plans. Taking large steps to the end of the apartment which has the waterworks inside the room, Dean knocks on the door. "Sammy, you still awake in there?"

He hears a cough. "Yeah! Dean, your water pressure is to die for - can't believe you'll have to leave it!" His little brother calls out, no, sings out. Dean could swear that Sam was probably about to begin worshiping the shower. "Have you and the others figured out the plan?"

He has made a plan, but it's not one he likes. "Maine. Our angel buddies have a safe house there." He tries not to sound too disappointed. After a brief pause, Dean adds, "Are you coming with us, or...?"

He hears Sam's laugh. "Of course! Besides, what would I do? Fix computers remotely or something?" Dean hears a splash of water through the door, and fights the urge to tell his brother to 'quit the little mermaid show in there'. "We're a team. All of us."

He huffs. He's not so sure about these angels now. But hell, Dean's been the cause of the end of the world a few times. He shouldn't disprove what his ______ can do without seeing.

"Yeah," he tells Sam. "A team. And don't waste all the hot water, I want one."

Dean chooses to ignore what Sam's said next.

"I swear to God -,"

"Did someone call?" A familiar voice chimes, and Dean takes a few steps backward. It's Him. Chuck Shurley. The author of all their lives - God. "Hello, Dean."

"_______, it's for you!" He calls out. Dean can't look at him. He can't stand breathing the same air as him. Even if Dean can't remember what He made him forget, he can't bear to look.

You see the man who made your life a horror. "Hello, Chuck," you smile. "Whatever can I do, except break up with the man I love, for you?" You act sweet.

Chuck-God laughs. "I'm beyond splitting the pair of you up, and you know it. Now you know the truth about what you are, all you can do is fulfil your purpose, and get on with what you promised two thousand years ago."

You felt Castiel's hand on your shoulder. "Father, we don't speak of the Schism," he muttered.

His hand weighed you down, as so to keep you from throwing yourself onto Chuck-God and pulling his pretty curls out.

"We should," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "It's been long enough. Besides, ______ doesn't remember what she did back then. It's hardly taboo to speak of it."

Dean kept his mouth shut. You leant back into Castiel and glanced to Balthazar, who wasn't looking at his father. You heard the water turn off in the bathroom where Sam showered.

"You woke up, so to speak, born with your abilities," Gabriel spoke up. He rolled his eyes at the glare his father gave him, " - I'm the messenger, Dad, so chill. You just are who you are, no demon or angel blood in you. But you met a guy - this guy," he jerked his thumb to Chuck. "When he was in a different form."

You closed your eyes.

"...and the pair of you went on to make this thing which people still worship. Well, they forget you, they still think of you as not very nice things when they look into what you accomplished."

When you opened your eyes, everyone seemed to be clearer. "I was supposed to call the angels to protect you," you tell Chuck, "and to raise the demons to fight in unison of hell and heaven," you gape. "I didn't. I couldn't."

Chuck's smile reached his eyes. "It's okay, you're forgiven. Everyone is, y'know, but I know you wouldn't have saved me that day. So I gave you an unlimited amount of chances to do the same, to become The Vinculum again, yet you never woke."

Dean huffed. "You have manipulated her life - lives! Plural! - into becoming your personal henchman, to finish what you couldn't. And when she finally did something she wanted, because she chose it; you swoop back in and try to fish her back out." Dean growled. You'd seen him like this before...namely before he'd decapitated vampires whilst being chained up. "Well, guess what, bud? Ain't happenin'."

You pause. "Dean, I think this is more than hunting, right now. Or what happened to us. I have to finish what I've started."

Balthazar hummed. "It'll take a short while, but could we please all leave this ugly house? I'm sure we're to have company soo-,"

He was right.

Chuck checked his watch. "On time, for once."

"Hello darling," the man smiled.


	10. How To Get Away With Saving The World

You can't put your finger to it, but you're sure you've heard of him before. He seems to be the kind of guy Dean would talk on and on about if he had just come back from a hunt - which, he would have talked about this guy; he did just appear in the middle of the apartment.

"Squirrel, Feathers," the man nods with civility to Dean and Castiel. "Where's Moose? And - oh, this must be the precious one," the man turns to you. He has a slight shadow of a beard appearing on his chin, and devious eyes. "I'm going to call you..." He seems to think about it.

You interrupt. "Let's just stick with ______ for now," you impose. "And you are?"

Over the man's shoulder you see Dean move to trace his throat in the don't go there gesture.

"The name's Crowley, poppet, King o' Hell. But instead of small talk that leads inevitably toward dinner tonight in Milan, between you and me, I'm here to for business talk." He smirks.

If Dean's eyes could shoot bullets, they'd already have shot Mr Crowley, you're sure. But they can't, and you're glad for that. Mainly because that would be a strange super power, and that it would be nearly unexplainable to humanity how the it had happened.

"Yes, Crowley," God-Chuck says, "______ is The Vinculum. You might remember her from -,"

"February, 1907," Crowley huffed. "I don't want to talk about it." He looked at his fingernails with a sense of false boredom. "But I do want to talk about the fact you can unite heaven and hell to co-exist in peace," he added. "Finally."

Gabriel huffed. "It's only taken a Millenia or so, but we're here. And we all want to fix what we started. Don't we?" He added, jesting.

You couldn't help but feel Dean's gaze pressuring you. Maybe it was because his home was invaded by supernatural creatures and interrupted Dr Sexy M. D. , you didn't know. But you knew what you had to do.

"Yeah," you agreed. "I have to do this. I've been screwing up ever since I met Dean, and that's because of you," you point to Chuck-God, "and your demons," you frown at Crowley, "and I want to do something good for a change."

Balthazar patted you on the back. "You tell 'em," he praised.

It just so happens at that moment, the bathroom door opened, and an only towel clad Sam Winchester emerged, his long hair wild like the way wet dogs shake their fur.

"Ah, there you are, Moose!" Crowley beamed.

Nearly dropping his towel, Sam screeched. "God! What the hell, Crowley?" He breathed, clutching both his chest and towel, "I'm going to get changed!" Sam stated, and rushed toward yours and Dean's room.

"I'll help you with that," Gabriel excused himself.

Dean frowned.

"...so, what do I have to do?" You prompted these supernaturally gifted people before you in a vain attempt to figure out what the heck was going on.

Chuck cleared his throat. "There are five main sources blocking union between all of these creatures you hunt, these demons and my children," he begins, ignoring the sound of a breaking lamp in the next room. "Each of them come from different sides of the supernatural world, and when they are all put together, you will know what to do."

Crowley straightened his tie. "In other words, you're going to be assisted for only two of the five - the demons and the angels. As much as we want to think we're hot stuff and control the others, it'll be harder to get the witches, werewolves and fey items."

Balthazar nodded. "There're more monsters than just those three, you know," he noted.

Dean hummed. "Technicality, I guess."

You bobbed your head. "So, I've got to make sure I can get all of these? What do they look like, are they all on this continent? Where do I activate them all?" You implored.

Chuck-God smiled. "It shall come to you when the time is right." He said in an ominous, douche-bag way. "Let's just say, you're not ordinary anymore -,"

You laugh darkly. "Don't I know it."

" - and you're more than capable of small miracles." He whispers.

Crowley rolls his eyes. "Now this pep talk is over with, I've got to roll. Hell to run, demons to subjugate, souls to file. The drill."

"Sonofa-," Dean went to cuss him, but the demon was gone. "Dammit."

Chuck sighed. "The shit I put up with in order to have peace on earth," he mumbled, "If anyone needs me, I'll be in Heaven, telling Joshua everything."

And he was gone too.

"So Dad - ah, he's disappeared. Again. And so's that short guy. Huh, so now we look for the special checkpoints so the Avatar here can reunite the nations of the world?" Gabriel started, walking in causally. You noted his ugly suit was rumpled, and most of the shirt buttons in the wrong holes. "Yay, or nay?"

Balthazar looked his brother up and down. "Nay to that shirt, Gabe, and fix your bed hair." At this, Sam joined the room in an equal state, and Balthazar rolled his eyes.

Dean paused.

"...lets just ignore the fact that those two have lost their divine fashion taste, and that I really need to save the world?" You nearly shouted to get over the growing tension in the room.

"Yes! Good point. Let's do that." Sam agreed.

Dean barked out a laugh. "It's the only thing we can do, if we want ______ to finally be free of the hold God has on her."

Sam cocked his head. "That too."


	11. Ghost Town For Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vinculum is up and ready to rumble! Crowley's lead leads to a ghost town. Ooooohhhhhhh 

As natural as it is for the boys to just go in to a demon infested area, you can't help but feel a little nervous. It has been nearly a year - maybe even more! - since you've properly hunted. And it was granted that they were the Winchesters, but with rusty skills, and entering a demon infested site, you just felt one step shy of being the weakest one around.

How long ago had it been since that team up you did with Dean to slay vampires? Too long, your subconscious replied. Maybe it was because you'd lived out now two realities since that point. Or something.

"We are nearly there," Castiel announced.

"Everyone ready?" Sam chimed. Always the optimist.

Gabriel hummed in disappointment. "I'm the one who does the announcing of things," he picked at non-existent fluff on his bomber jacket. "Hey, _____, don't be worried. It'll be simple. Clean and easy."

You laughed. "Nervous? Me? Get out, I'm a hunter, I - I guess I have a few pre-hunt jitters."

Dean turned from the wheel and gave you a smile that made your insides jump. "Don't fret," he assured you, winking. "We've got your back."

You nodded.

The scenery outside the car blurred together, and before you knew it, all of you were out of the Impala, and standing in defense without the opponent visible. Sam huffed, gripping his knife tighter, and Castiel frowned. "Father said that this is where Crowley said it was located," his angel blade slid down his sleeve, "Yet I cannot sense it."

"Same here, Cassie," Gabriel hummed.

You closed your eyes. It wasn't as if the abandoned ghost town was any good to look at anyway; it seemed to only get in the way. And if that was anything to go by...now your eyes were closed, you stilled. You could hear your friends' breaths. The crunch of gravel under their boots. A creaking store sign nearby.

And a gentle whirr of energy a few meters away.

"North-East from here," you gasped, eyes wide. "It's - it's subtle. I can feel it." You glanced to Dean. Your eyes must have looked wild, spooked like a lost horse; it wasn't like you'd always been a walking freak case. Oh wait.

"North-East?" He repeated, striding to your side.

"Yeah. I think...I think it's in a person?" You confessed, heartbeat as wild as a racing horse without a track.

Gabriel nodded. "Sounds about right, kiddo."

"Let's move out," Castiel announced. "_____, take lead. Show us what you need to take."

You nod.

Moving forward, the band of hunters and angels following, you gravitate to the power. Ever since the screwy background story took your identity as a normal kid, turned you into a hunter, God screwed you over with an alternate universe and left you with a fear of procreating, just to find you were the Vinculum - whoever wrote this in the book of life, had a screwy sense of humour and a flair for the dramatic.

"It's here," you whisper. You're in front of an abandoned butcher's shop, the sign holding on by a single rope and luck. Dean raises his arms to signal the group, and they gather around.

You pause.

"Are those voices inside?" Sam questions.

Quickly, and without warning, the door swings open. The man you met before, the one who disappeared in the middle of your apartment is there, wearing an apron that seems to be stained in either blood or runny jelly.

"Darling!" Crowley smiles. "Rocky, Bullwinkle, Feathers...more Feathers," he greets. "I got them. Ready for extraction."

You freeze.

"Do I have to - to torture?" You stammer. No. You can't do that. Not in a million years, not to a demon, or the human body that houses it. Not after what God did to you. 

Crowley rolls his eyes. "Yes, and we'll make a big deal out for it and I'll make you do it at gunpoint. What, do you think I don't know what you've done to me?" He sighs. "Kidding. Except, you have done worse to me in other lives."

"Quit screwing around, Demon," Gabriel sets his jaw. He might be all sunshine a and sugar, but the toffee-haired angel has some spice. 

You're still unsure. You can't remember all these lives they talk about, and they do. It's something short of infuriating.

"______, I've already done the torture, you just extract it." He levels.

Slowly, your head nods. Feet move forward. Mind whirls. Inside the room, the old butchery tools are still on the walls, glass display cases covered, as if they are waiting to reopen, signs still displaying the specials. It's quaint, and reminds you of a time you'd rather be than here.

Inside the middle of the room, however, is something new. A woman is strapped into a chair, eyes black with her soulless demon colours, mouth gagged. You don't look at her shirt and jeans. Her arms. She's been tortured for a while. Maybe all the time it took to drive here.

"And I just...extract it?" You ask everybody, nobody.

Castiel clears his throat. "She harbours it inside of her. When you take it, it will form a residency inside of you."

You nod.

Why couldn't have your two thousand year old previous self been more proactive and not caused all this calamity?

You seem to move like a ghost toward the demon. She has an anger in her eyes which you've seen before, but also a fear. Maybe she had been cursed to keep this burden. You're lifting it. You're doing good.

"I don't know if this will hurt," you tell her.

"Nothing will hurt as much as the torture I gave her," Crowley sounds smug behind you.

"...but I'll try not to." You continue. Fingers outstretched, you feel a pull on your hand, migrating your limb upwards, up to her forehead. This power, it's strong, it's overwhelming, it's here and you can feel it -

Your hand brushes her brow.

It's then you feel a burst of a foreign energy invade you. It isn't like a possession at all, but something more: it's like sharing a twin consciousness in yourself. Waking up a dormant side. Waking a volcano.

And as quick as it starts, it's done. The woman is lax in the chair, sleeping. The hunters behind you are in awe. And you face them, heart racing out of your chest.

"Did I grow a third eye? Another arm?" You joke. They're still staring.

Dean shakes his head. "______ ... you're glowing."


	12. Angel, Assisted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons down, angels, fey, werewolves and witches to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a shower scene in this chapter. No smut, because I am so very awkward at writing it because what the heck, it's weird to write kissing/smut scenes and even weirder to read them (kinda pervy imo). Anyways, I just thought to warn y'all.

A week later, and still a faint radiance could be seen in your veins, buzzing in your mind. You had a part of your destiny in your blood. What kind of normal person could say that? None, probably, unless they were the kid of a famous sports star. The rest of the team were silent on the matter, and for that, you were glad. You were not a mutant of Charles Xavier, nor you were a freak or a monster the Winchesters were born and bred to cull.

You're still _____. The _______ who tricked Dean Winchester into thinking you were Homeland Security, the _______ who he took on picnics and laid next to at night.

Except now, you were _______: Glowing edition. And you hadn't been in public around normal people for too long to avoid side glances and suspicion. You couldn't help but feel alien, almost.

"I have a lead as to the next phase," Sam spoke up from the park bench. You had all been driving around the lower states, stopping for not too long, trying out the essentially homeless life once more.

"Tell me, does it involve lighting up like a fricking Christmas tree again?" you spoke up. You and Dean lay together on the picnic rug you had been on not too long ago, that trip to the park with Castiel. It seemed like eons ago now. "I have to say, I never saw that side effect coming a mile away."

"I admit, that was unexpected," Gabriel perked up from laying across Sam's lap, just to show you his quizzical brow. "To be fair, none of us have seen you in the final stages of your Vinculum-ness, so it's not entirely anyone's fault."

You snort. "Sure it is. I'd blame your dad, first."

Sam cleared his throat. "Guys, just listen. It's just a state over, a cult of fallen angels have taken residence in an abandoned chapel just out of a nearby town."

"Wow, your Spidey-senses must be tingling, Sammy, if you're getting that amount of info these days," Dean harrumphed.

Slowly, you sat up, cross legged. The angels and hunters around you sat alert, the air tense. Nobody had mentioned Sam's old demon-superpowers for a while, and it was as terse as you imagined.

"Arguing about how Sam found the information will not solve the process," Castiel grumbled. "Do you children have to bicker?"

Gabriel beamed. "Yes. It adds fodder to the plot."

Sam sighed. "As I was about to say," he started, "It's all on a website. One of these juiced bastards doesn't like the idea of anonymity, or wants what's coming for them."

You scratch your neck. "First I get Twilight off a demon Crowley BDSM'd for me, now a cult of fallen angels? This is only step two, and I already feel like a –," Your shoulder felt the weight of Dean's palm, and leaning back into his firm form, you couldn't help but try and hold back tears just a little longer. You needed to be strong, for not just yourself, but Dean. "Never mind. Let's make a move."

"______?" Dean whispered. "I love you."

You nod. "We should make a move if we want to get there by nightfall."

\-------------

Of course, the group did not make it by nightfall, having to stop twice because Sam needed to pee, and Gabriel made himself puke from too many sweet things, and the team had to stop a town over, in the worst motel you'd seen on this side of the galaxy. How could there be that much mould in the carpet alone?

"Shotgun the big bed!" Dean shouted upon entering, and seeing the stains, retracted his raised hand. "Then again, maybe not. ______ and I take the other one."

Sam moaned. "Dude," he pleaded, "why?"

"Quit your whining, child," Gabriel snapped his fingers, and the whole room became even better than new - like a honeymoon suite in Vegas minus the cheap decor. "There. You happy, baby?"

You gaped. "What if someone saw you do that, Gabriel!" you hiss, raising your hands to push through your hair. Seeing your glowing skin, you shove your sleeves down and hold your arms tight to your chest. "I mean, I know you're God's golden child and all and can kind of erase people's memories and stuff when you want, but I'm a freak as it is. We could get revealed, or worse, killed."

Dean dumped his bag on the floor. "Freak?"

Sam gaped. "Killed?"

Gabe's head turned. "Golden child? Have you seen Lucifer?"

Ignoring them and the muted stares, you stalk past the boys and angels to the bathroom, and lock yourself in.

From behind the heavy door, you can still make out what they're saying - Dean is upset because of your statement, Gabriel is wound up, Sam is beyond tuckered out; Castiel is slightly AWOL - and before you know it, you dive nearly straight into the shower, to block out the testosterone that was filling your ears and wash away what you could of the day.

And still, with the lights off, your skin glowed.

"What do you want to be, when you grow up, ______?" you speak in a mock ultra-feminine voice to the steam rising from the shower head . "Oh, me?" You reply, air of sarcasm heavy in your tone. "I want to light up like a row of freakin' fairy lights!"

"_______? Can I come in?"

You spin, turning so fast you nearly fling yourself into the wall with the slippery tiles. Instead of being behind the door you'd listened in at, Dean is standing right before you, in his plain tee and boxers, the humidity of the room deflating his hair. For a second, you can only see him as someone dragged into something he isn't ready for, still the young man you fell for harder than a tonne of bricks to the head.

"_______? I can go if you like." Dean's voice is nearly a whisper. He turns to -

"Stay. Please," you whisper. "Come, share the shower with me."

Slowly, Dean peels his shirt off, and blinking, you miss him kick off his boxers, and stepping toward you into the torrents of near boiling water. At once, the pair of you are smothered under the water, flattening his hair further, smoothing the feelings you've repressed.

"We haven't done this in a long time," Dean whispers in your ear. "I've missed you. It's hard to physical with you with Sammy and God's children in the same room."

You laugh. "Geeze, Dean, they're not exactly poised at the end of the bed to watch us, they're half decent people."

Your hunter boyfriend took that into consideration, and nipping your ear, he added, "We're hunters. I don't even know if we're even half decent. A quarter? Maybe a sixteenth decent..."

At the feeling of his touch, you can't help but retract yourself from his feathery grip. "Dean, please. I just want to get clean and go to sleep." But before you can grab the soap in your luminescent fingers, Dean gathers them in his own.

"You haven't been yourself since the demon phase, ______," he slides his fingers between yours. In the dark, it's nice. It feels right. Real. Perfect. But when you open your eyes, you see the appendages that light up a dull blue, and have been for a week. "Babe, it isn't because -,"

"I'm not possessed," you whisper, "I'm glowing. Like the aliens in that Avatar movie. I'm an Avatar. For real."

Dean reaches behind you to switch the shower off. Standing in the steam, you can see him assessing you - seeing everything of your body, which so happens to be lit up. "There's nothing wrong with you, right? No brain injury, or a sudden love for any genre but rock music?"

You shake your head. "No, but Dean," you murmur. "But this - it's unnatural."

Before you can process it, Dean has come toward you, and you're pressed against the cool smooth surface of the tiles, and you're kissing him. Your hands are on his neck, his are in your hair, your brain is whirring, but it's oddly peaceful -

"I thought you wouldn't love me anymore because now I look like the things we hunt," you gasp for air, gasp in shock.

Dean breaks away from your lips, "What? No. Never. I love you, ________. If we weren't hunters and you weren't on a mission to balance the world, I'd marry you - I'd marry you tomorrow if I could. Now. Right now, right here."

You laugh. "We can't be married in a motel shower!" 

 

 

The next day, after a peaceful sleep that rivaled all peaceful sleeps ever slept, the team made the move to the next town, where Cas met you all with bagels and everyone's favourite morning drinks.

"You have a twenty on the cult, Cas?" you asked him, accepting your warm cup. "Thanks."

The dark haired angel nodded. "The abandoned chapel is only a block away. They're all inside, but, they have human..."

"Disciples? Lackeys?" Gabriel offered.

Dean snorted. "I get it. Casualties you don't want to hurt. But they're brainwashed if they're there. No use to us if they're just gonna go zombie and protect their -,"

Sam cleared his throat. "I think it's _______'s call, Dean."

The elder brother paused, and regarding you, nodded. "_______? What do you think?"

"So, here's what I'm thinking..." You begin, with the boys listening closely. To passerby people looking in on it, it probably looked like a pep talk before a basketball game or something. They were all tall enough. "Gabe, you and Sam take on the guards ... put them to sleep. Cas, you drop me and Dean in, into the middle. You two can fend off attack while I get the juice. Savvy?"

The boys nod. "Savvy," Gabe repeats, in a Jack Sparrow accent. "Well? Let's start the party!"

Castiel touched yours and Dean's heads. Showtime.

The scene of a quiet town was traded for a ramshackle old religious building. Dean and Cas had their angel blades already out, and before you knew it, were doing their best to fight off two grown men with similar weapons. Where is the - your mind raced, but before it got too far ahead of itself, your eyes caught a young girl, sitting on a pile of rubble that might have resembled an alter fifty years ago. She had dark, curly red hair, and smooth, black skin that resembled molten choclate and bright eyes that seemed to know your soul. 

"Stop fighting," she told the men. "This is my friend."

Glancing behind to catch Dean's confused frown, Castiel elaborated, "Sablo. Sister. It has been too long," he prefaces.

The young girl, who, you realise is just a vessel, rises from her position. "Hello, Castiel, I agree, it has been too long. But, brother, you are not the friend I refer to. Hello, ______. I see you've awoken to yourself."

Your heart is racing out of your chest, "I - I'm not sure I know you. Maybe in another time -," 

She nods her small head. The little girl she is in can't be older than seven. "Yes, it was. In the Great War, you and I protected eighty children from attack. I wouldn't expect you to remember me, I took on a nun as my vessel, Mother Superior Catherine." The little angel beamed. "But I'm here to help you with your quest."

Sam and Gabriel appeared, their weapons raised. "What's the hold-up - Sablo! My girl! What's up, sis?"

The little angel rolled her eyes. "I needed to get you all here by posing as rouge, but I am not. I'm tired. I need to protect the world; it's my duty. And if in doing that, I give up my corporeal form here for a while ... I know it will not be in vain."

You gape. How can anyone be so noble? "Sablo -,"

She walks toward you, and taking your hands, places them on her shoulders. "I trust you with everything in my power to save this world, ______." She closes her eyes. "Spare me of this fate of watching the world burn only saving few."

And you do.

Turning your hands, you grip the child's neck, holding her head in your hands. "This will hurt," you warn Sablo, looking deep into her near-black eyes. 

She nods. "Save me, ______."

Pressing lightly, you feel something awaken inside you, breaching a wall of humanness you thought you had. As much as it reaches out to the child vessel before you, it is filling something in your soul - filling you. "Sleep, Sablo." you tell her, her small body falling toward you. Her eyes are empty, but her mouth is open, and the grace of her angelic soul escapes, out into heaven to rest. 

Gabriel makes a noise. "You're getting better at this, ______."

You turn your head and shoot him a glare. "Shut it, Leirbag." 

Sablo's vessel is limp against your legs, but a shudder passes through her body. Her eyes focus, and blinking, her lip shudders. In a thick accent, she cries. "Where-where am I?" she whispers.

You take her hand. "You were sleeping, but we'll make sure you get home, don't you worry."

"My name's Felicia," She smiles weakly, squeezing your hand. "Thank you. I miss my Daddy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where Sablo came from, she is an angel of graciousness and protection. The site I found it on was http://www.angelsghosts.com/angel_names


	13. You Ain't Nothin' But A Hound Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Reader, Sam and the angels are still on their quest to create balance to the world...but there's another thing that needs to be done first: a side quest called onto them by the name of Lydia Martin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoilers for I think season 3 of Teen Wolf. So if you're not up to it, please don't ruin it for yourself. Or, if you have already had it ruined for you, keep reading, because the internet is a widely uncensored place and you're in charge of your own life...
> 
> Sorrynotsorry for the 2,000+ words fam.

The witch needed for the next part of the trials was located in Northern Idaho, in a town so North it was almost close to being on the Canada-U.S. border. That's what Gabe and Cas said, after doing a scour of the underbelly of the downworlder-ly people. So, it was decided after making sure little Felicity found her family (frantic photogenic parents who thanked you with fresh food from their market that Sam liked a lot more than Dean) that a beeline would be made for Porthill, Idaho.

"What's with this town, _____?" Dean laughed. He was behind the wheel once again; his favourite place in the whole world, next to being beside you. "Population less than a hundred ... I'm going to need snow chains for the tires, aren't I?"

You pat Dean's knee, and nod morosely. "Yeah, you will. But we're only just in Kansas. Don't jump the gun, Winchester."

From the back seat, legs sprawled across the leather to accommodate his size, Sam snorted. "You sound like an old married couple, the both of you."

You whistle low and lock eyes with him in the rear vision mirror. "Woah there, Sam, the man hasn't proposed yet. Don't give him any ideas."

Dean raised a brow. "I thought I proposed last night?"

Before Sam could ask about the accidently spilled tea, there's a whirl of wings. Almost too fast, Gabriel is there, and he kisses Sam's cheek and waves to everyone. "Hey babe. Babe's brother and sis in law to be. What up?"

Dean raised his other eyebrow. "Since when?" He asks Sam.

The gigantic human being shrugs a shoulder. "A couple of years. Since that motel – when you met ______, actually. I was sick of being celibate after Jess, and I met a guy, and then he turned out to be Cas' brother -,"

Gabe produces a lollypop from his jeans, and unwrapping the sucker, puts it into his mouth. "We've been a thing for a while. Keep up with the times, Dean, your brother is bi as heaven."

You nod, grinning. "I thought I saw some chemistry between you two -,"

"How much further to Porthill?" Dean wonders idly.  
  
  


 

 

Halfway across Wyoming, Dean pulled into a motel in Fort Collins, and let out a sigh. "We're stopping for the night here."

You glance to him. His face is dark in the shadow of the moonlight, painting the lines of age and wear onto his face like a reverse cover-up makeup. Slow, as Sam and Gabe jump out to pay the motel owner before they lock up, you move to face your boyfriend. For a moment, you can picture his face before all of this crap hit him like a truck on the freeway at full speed. when he was younger, hair spiked up like a kid at a school dance with their flames t-shirt. Now, he's tired. 

You're tired, too.

But you know it's only really the start. 

"Dean, talk to me," you whisper. All you can hear from him is even breaths, like he's calm. But he can't be, not - , "Baby, please. If you're tired, I'll take over driving until Idaho. Maybe Sam, he's had more experience in the Im-,"

"-I'm sick of these supernatural idiots barging into your life - our lives! - to play games," Dean bursts. "I wanted to have kids and settle down and leave hunting for good for us; I wanted the wedding of your dreams and a dog and a pick up truck and to watch you wake every morning without knowing that you might die the next day, trying to balance out the universe!" 

You pale.

"And then we're travelling all over the country for this? Goddamn right, I'm tired. Sick and tired of having a damn quest in the way of our - our love!"

You nod. 

"I'd love to marry you," you whisper. "I'm still...some days, I forget that our lives weren't erased like they were...that we still," your voice breaks, and you close your eyes. "That we still have a baby. A future." At this confession, it seems to break a dam wall, and it all comes out. Tears, words, hiccuping breaths that leave your chest aching.

Dean's eyes widen. "_______? Babe? C'mon, breathe, darl. Don't want you to keel over, Cas'n Sam'll kill me." He coos, and wraps you in an embrace. It's only then that it really hits you; it's okay. For now.

"Oh my God, Dean, you're right!" you gasp. "It sucks, balls! And if I survive -,"

Dean Winchester withdraws his arms around you. "No if. No but. No - no goddamn coconuts, either. You're surviving this fricking mess or so help me I will bring you back myself." He laughs. "I'm in too deep, sweetheart. We're - we're soulmates."

Your breath hitches. "- really?"

He nods. "Now, let's grab some sleep before we hit the road tomorrow, ______. And by sleep, I mean I will hug the shit out of you and by hug I mean -,"

You shake your head. "Nuh-uh. Not with Sam and Gabe in the same room, Dean." Going to open the door, you wipe your eyes, and add, "But I will never say no to cuddling." 

 

 

 

It's three past midnight when Sam's phone sings a song. Everyone, except Gabe and Cas (who had been in the kitchenette discussing single-celled organisms in Brazil) had woken up to it, and bleary eyed, listened in to the long-haired man's conversation with what sounded to be a panicked client.

"Who was that?" Gabe rubs his eye, "She sounded scared."

Dean closes his eyes. "What's going on now?"

Sam closes his flip phone with a sharp _snap!_  and faces everyone. "That's, ah, the girl who's grandmother's remains I salted and burned, and was chased by werewolves by." His smile is small. "Chuck-I mean, God got me out of there before they would have killed me. Anyways, Lydia's in trouble."

You sit up. "She's a werewolf?"

"No, her friends are wolves, she's a banshee."

Dean's eyes widen. "She's a - and you got out alive? Don't tell me you're considering on helping this chick. Her town sounds like a freak Halloween show."

You elbow Dean. "We have to take the case. It sounds really important -,"

Cas clears his throat. "She did sound distressed."

"If we go to California, we're doubling our mileage to Porthill," Sam puts in. "We've got to think, that's _sixteen_ more hours than we'd have. I for one -,"

Tossing off the blankets of the motel bed, you stand, and switch on the light above the bed. "Sam Winchester, we are taking the case," you grit your teeth. "I bet you remember being seventeen years old and afraid of the dark. I sure do," you march over to your bag, and start tossing in things you had unpacked. "We're taking the case, boys, and we're going now. Come on."

 

 

 

It's four in the afternoon by the time you stop the car, and as soon as you park it in Beacon Hills caravan park's waiting area, your head hits the steering wheel. Maybe you should have taken that coffee Dean offered you at nine this morning.

"So, we've got a room sorted out," Sam comes back to the car, leaning in to talk, "And I'm going to suggest we all take a nap and then go find the big bad."

"Sounds good," your voice is muffled over the wheel. 

Dean's voice shows hints of a smile. "______, I can drive it to the room if you -,"

You make a noise, your forehead hitting the horn. "I'm awake! I'm fine! Let's go."

 

 

 

Sam's phone rings the next morning, with Lydia arranging to meet in a coffeehouse in downtown Beacon Hills. By now, everyone's dark circles have become lighter circles by the plentiful sleep, and armed with the necessary weapons, you, Dean and Sam make way for the hot spot for teenage socialisation. 

Upon entering, Sam's face lights up. "There she is - hey, Lydia!"

Your eyes find her quickly. She's hard to miss - it's not too often you find a red-head who's as stylish and poised as her; she looks just as calm and collected as a nervous cramming college student, yeah, but she rocks her hound's tooth dress like hell.

"Hey, I'm Lydia," She introduces. "I already know Sam, from...last time. Sorry about that - you must be, Dean?" she guesses. "And - no, sorry, I don't know you. It was usually just Dean and Sam on the FBI most wanted list, not a girl..."

You stick your hand out to shake. "_______ ________. Nice to meet you, Lydia."

She makes a face, and grins. "I'm starting to like you, ______. Thanks for convincing these old guys for taking the the case, or....I don't even know what I'd be doing."

"Old guys?"Dean huffs. 

Sam narrows his eyes. "You didn't say what the problem was with, Lydia -,"

The redhead makes a noise. "Not talking business until I have my cappuccino. Anyways, I'm just the frontwoman, the one you want to speak to is Scott. He's the...leader? Alpha?" she wrinkles her noise. "I'm still not used to all this supernatural stuff."

One cappuccino and a walk across town later (how could she keep going in those kitten heels? You had more respect for the girl than ever, especially since the last time you'd been in heels had been almost never) you made it to a run-down cutesy house. 

"Scott's house," Lydia announces. "Wait here."

Dean turns to Sam, and makes a face. "This feels kind of Godfather-y."

"Sam, Dean, please," you sigh. "We're hunters. We do our best to help people with problems with stuff that logically doesn't exist. That's what we're doing here, okay?"

"They tried to kill me," Sam retorts.

"A lot of other things have tried to kill you Sam," you look the house up and down.

It's the sort of house Dean tells you he grew up in, before life on the road, and just as your eyes make it to the second story window with the curtains drawn, the front door opens. A guy the same as Lydia walks out, wearing a maroon sports coat and jeans. He looks normal; except, for the fact that you know from the lettering on his shirt that he's the alpha Lydia spoke of, Scott, and that means he's a werewolf.

"Bueller? Bueller's friend, and girlfriend?" the dark haired kid, Scott asks. "Come in. My mother's not home for a bit, she'd freak if she found more people in her house."

Sam's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Making 20th century references because you're teens? Low blow."

You laugh. "You must be a busy alpha, then."

Scott laughs darkly. "You've got that right; I never seem to catch a break."

Lydia shuts the door behind everyone, and adds, "Dean would have been seven when that movie came out, Scott, and besides, - where's Isaac gone?"

A young blonde boy jumped down the stairs. "Present."

You turn to Scott, "So what's wrong? You know, we're only hunters, we can't sort out pack feuds and student debt. Although, the latter would be a nice superpower."

"It's all because this one started coughing like possessed the other day," Lydia grabs Isaac by the wrist, wrenching the boy toward the group. "I did research, and Scott realised the best way to make Isaac live another season was call Sam back - because of this."

Her grip on Isaac tightened, and moving him toward you, she took your hand and put it beside Isaac.

"Holy shit..."

"What the heck -," Dean cussed.

Lydia made a face. "I knew that would happen, I told you, Scott."

You frown, "How  - how do you know I'm the Vinculum, Lydia?" you wonder quickly, speaking up. "This is beyond my usual level of freaky."

She tilts her head, and drops the hands in her grip. "Call it a premonition, or just instinct. I've read so much on your legacy, _______, it's impressive nobody else figured it out."

"Yeah, well, she just found out in the last six months," Dean smiled. "So, yeah."

You turn to Isaac, and then to his alpha. "Believe it or not, this helps me exponentially with my...quest. So, where do you want the extraction to take place? It won't be messy."

 

 

 

You leave Isaac sitting at the dining table, breathing heavy with an ice-pack on the back of his neck. Everyone else is crowded around you - watching on with curious eyes. Still, your arms are lit up like a neon sign hanging in the Vegas strip, but this time, your teeth are aching, neck almost iridescent. 

"Wow," Scott lets out a breath. "And I thought I had it bad being a teen wolf. Oh, man, Stiles is going to be mad about missing out on this..."

Lydia punches him. "Shut it, Scott. She is literally a beacon right now, and you're talking about it like she overdid the highlighter in her contour? Don't be insensitive."

You shake your head. "I'll be fine by morning. As for your friend,"

"I'm fine!" he calls over. "I'm glad it's out of me, thank you, _______." There's a pause, and he adds, "I'm just going to take a lie-down now..."

Scott nods. "You probably want to do that too...thank you so much with this. We know some hunters, but this is so out of their league. The Argent's are mostly werewolf focused."

Dean's eyes winden. "Argent? As in, Chris, and his dad...Gerard?"

Scott nods. "Yeah. That's them. You know 'em?"

Sam laughs. "Yeah, we grew up with Chris when we weren't hunting, ourselves." His eyes meet the clock above the fridge, and he makes a face. "If it's alright with you, we've got to haul- it's getting late. Your mom should be home soon, and it's a school night -,"

Isaac makes a noise from the couch. "Making a joke because we're kids? Low blow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I love this bit…so much. You’re welcome for the FBDO reference, made because of the author's pleasure but also because why not? It’s Ferris Bueller p.s. I fell for Cameron Frye the moment I first set eyes on him (▰˘◡˘▰). And also I had to write in teen wolf again because Lydia is a BAMF. Quote me on that, Internet. 
> 
> Alright see you next month or so when the next part is delivered to me from divine inspiration! ଘ(੭*◠ヮ◠)੭*:･ﾟ✧


	14. Don't Give A Hex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off to remote up country Idaho you, Dean, Sam, Cas and Gabe go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm so late with the update, uni has been hectic lately...
> 
> Also before you hate on me because I get American stuff wrong, please remember I'm Australian and I've never ever left the country because I have literally no money to travel kthnxbye

"You're not still mad about the trip to California?" You persist, switching off the radio. It wasn't like it was AC-DC was playing, Dean wouldn't miss the radio-remix of Brittany Spears' _Stronger_. He's been broody and silent since crossing the last two boarders. "Babe? Is something wrong?"

Dean shakes his head, and cakes on a fake smile you see straight through. "I'm awesome."

In the back, Sam cackles over the top of his magazine. He's reading some serial celebrity gossip trash, the cover plastered with this week's weight loss tips and fashion faux-pas.

"_______, _The Real Housewives of OC_ were in the area," he folds the magazine like he's a spy in a noir film rather than in a cult TV show. "Dean, along with his thing for _Dr Sexy M. D.,_ has a thing for daytime television. I'm surprised you didn't know, actually." The younger Winchester grins.

You give Dean a glance, and switch Brittany back on. "Sorry Dean. I would've hung around to see the rich thin women too if I had known, but..."

He nods, and turns the dial up so the pop sensation sings a little louder in Baby's speakers. "I've got a bigger duty to get you out of this Vinculum mess than, ugh, check out hot chicks."

"That's my man." You nudge his shoulder, and smile. "After this is over, I'll take you back to see the hot chicks."

Dean's face warps into one of an astounded glee. In the rear-view mirror, he stares down his brother: "That's my girl."

 

 

 

You fell asleep sometime later, but by the time you'd woken, Sam and Dean had already swapped shifts for driving, and were hot on the trail up to the top of Idaho. From the corner of your eye, you saw Sam, hands on the wheel and blinking to try and stay awake. That's when you noticed something pulling your hair lightly, tugging.

"What the -,"'

The tugging ceases. "Sorry!" Dean pats your shoulder lightly, kissing the bone. "I - your hair is so pretty. I love the way it looks in the sun," he beams.

Sam harumphs from the front. "Dude, I'm driving, stop making out with your girlfriend aloud with me right next to you." he jests, and gives you a grin. "The town is only a couple of miles away. I mean, get this, while you two have been goofing off, I've done some research -,"

Dean scoffs. "How? You're supposed to be paying attention while driving, you know. Bitch."

Sam makes a face. "Jerk. I had helpers."

You make a face, and turn just in time to see Castiel and Gabriel appear beside Dean. Castiel's lap is laden with a myriad of heavy books, and appears to be studying contently into the thickest of them all. Gabriel is flicking through a graphic novel with two boys on the front, titled _Supernatural._ Strange.

"Yeah. We are Sam's little helpers, Dean." Gabriel pulled a face. "Anyways, we found out this witch has been sending distress calls out. They're along the lines of - Cas, you remember what the witch was saying?"

Castiel blinks, and clears his throat. "Someone help, something is possessing me." The dark haired angel of the lord repeated.

Sam nodded. "This witch is aware of it! I think it's because of twin consciousness, maybe they had it placed upon them, or it's something to do with you, (y/n), I don't know, genetically, but we are going to help this witch."

You frown. "I don't think I've ever heard you so cheerful about a witch, Samuel Winchester." You tease. "Hey, don't worry. It's not your fault you've been roped along into my crazy life quest."

The younger Winchester smiles. "(Y/n), you no doubt are the strangest thing we've done in our lives."

Gabriel wagged his eyebrows. "You've done (y/n)?"

Dean frowns. "Shove off, candy ass."

 

 

 

Just like expected, Porthill, Idaho was a small border town. There were houses, scattered here and there, a little resort, a slightly larger border protection station, and a gas station. Glancing to the gauge, Sam sighs. "We are almost fresh out of petrol."

"There's a gas station." Dean points out the open window. "Maybe they know where the witch is."

Castiel blinks. "Not everyone is atune to the supernatural world as we all are." he reminds Dean. "But it would be easier if they did."

As Sam pulls up beside the lone pump at the station, you get out and prep baby up to be filled. It's an excuse to stretch your legs, and you definatly need that after what most indefinably feels like the longest road trip ever. And you've ridden with the Winchesters long enough to be able to say that.

"Hey! I don't want hunters or angels at my place!" a voice yells, followed by a bell. 

You glance over your shoulder to see short, middle-aged woman with dark hair storming outside. She's wearing mom jeans and a trucker cap and a flannel like she's Asian female Bobby Singer. For a moment, you think you see Sam flinch from his side of the Impala, but that might be because this woman looks like hell hath no fury compared to what she'll unleash. Especially when she knows about the hunting world.

"Sorry ma'am," Dean smiles nervously. 

She huffs, hands akimbo. "You should be! Last time they drank me out of house and home and I had to clean up the mess they left behind. Just because Jerry Parkins was a shapeshifter didn't mean he was evil! All he did was farm goats!"

You blink. "I know we aren't welcome here, but..." slowly, you hang the bowser back to its rightful place, and step toward the mountain-moving woman. With every tread upon the crunchy ground, you feel your fingers tingle as if loosing circulation, and gradually illuminate. "You're the witch?"

Her eyes narrow. "And you're the Vinculum. You're late."

 

 

 

By the time everyone are inside the gas station Lynda Tran runs, Sam pays for the petrol, Dean pays for everyone to have milkshakes, and you and Ms Tran sit down for business. 

"So, by late, you mean we took a detour to California?" you ask.

She shudders. "No. I was told by my sources you were to come here earlier than that. Days - weeks ago! You know what it's like living your life when suddenly you find out you're not an ordinary hedge witch anymore, and there's a tumour in your lung that nobody can fix and you're home to a puzzle piece to God's plan? I wanted to go visit my nephew in Michigan, but _nooo_ , I had to spend my life savings on treatment!"

You take a deep breath. "I'm - I'm so sorry to hear that." If hearts could bleed for another person, yours would be decimated on the floor. Yeah, you were a badass hunter who'd hung around the tough as nails Winchesters for years, but there was something you couldn't deny, and that was emotions. "I can take the puzzle piece away, that's why I'm here. And the tumor -,"

Castiel finishes slurping his vanilla milkshake, and strides over. Placing two fingers upon Lynda Tran's forehead, he states. "I've healed you to your optimum level of health."

Her eyes widen, hands going to her lungs that can breathe freely again. "Oh - oh my gosh." the witch whispers. "Thank you, angel."

Castiel blinks. "My name is Castiel. And your milkshake tasted like very nice molecules."

Lynda gives a small smile. "Thank you, Castiel."

You motion to her hands. "I can extract the piece inside of you here and now, if you prefer. Or if you want to do it in private -,"

Lynda shakes her head, and shoves her hands toward you. "Please, help me. All I want to do is see my sister in law. It's been years, and I can't risk hurting her or her son with what... _unnatural_ thing I have inside of me." Her eyes break your heart a little more, and you nod. 

Taking her hands in yours, you whisper. "It might hurt. It mightn't'. But brace yourself, Ms Tran."

 

 

 

"_______? _______?"

Your eyes move behind the lids. Slowly, you frown, blinking the world back into perspective. It's no secret that everything you see is different; there's some...thing in front of everything. Like you're seeing two worlds, almost, overlain with each other. As it comes to focus, you see Dean, beautiful Dean standing above you, but something's off. 

 _You can see his soul_. 

You scream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for the dramatic


	15. Tinker Belle's Cousin Reprimands Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all places you could picnic, you choose the one which will have the most consequences. I guess you're already in the hot water, it couldn't get hotter...could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD THIS WAS HARD TO WRITE   
> NOT THAT I HAVE ANYTHING AGAINST FAIRIES OR STUFF  
> THIS STORY IS DRAGGING ON FOREVER...

Picture this: you, Dean, Sam, Sam's boyfriend Gabriel and Gabriel's brother Cas all laying down in the middle of a warm, summer's day. There's been a picnic lunch, packed by Sam, filled with healthy stuff Dean begrudgingly ate, and Cas frowned at the entire meal. There are bees nearby, and no clouds in sight. It is peaceful.

But now, that's not what happened. Of course, the picturesque moment was trashed the moment that you felt something take a hold of you, and everything went black.

 

 

 

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was

 that there was a multitude of rainbows, everywhere. That there was just light, and there was something very wrong with the way that all you could feel was...bark? Where were you?

"She's woken," a voice spoke, and turning  toward them, you make out their shape. The person who spoke does not look like a person at all. In fact, they appear to be very not human, and completely and utterly out of a John Lennon LSD daydream, or something of that sort. The one who spoke has scaled skin in shades of green, almost like a crocodile, and eyes slit like cats. Their hair is long, and made of...leaves? _Where are you?_ "I am aware you are the one who suggested your friends to sit where they did."

Your eyes widen, and sitting up, you feel woozy, like you've either had too much blood rush from your head or too much to drink. Either way, your mind is jumbled, and so is the reality around you.

You are sitting on the branch in the tree above your group of friends, but instead of being the same size they are, you are no larger than a pin's head. If this was the most unsettling thing that had ever happened to you, including the fact that God had erased a portion of your life, you would have to struggle to face the facts. Fast. 

"Fey?" you whisper.

The creature with the cat eyes frowns. "Yes, that is what we are, but you have not answered! You are the one two have suggested your friends to trespass on the fey land?" The fairy is angered, their form stiffening. They are angered.'

Your mind races, back to before the pleasurable luncheon, to before the car trip, and you sigh. "Yes, it was me. But -,"

The cat-eyed fey moves toward you. "You entered the faerie ring, and you can only exit the faerie ring if you have the wits to."

You take a deep breath, and for a moment, all you can picture in your mind are all the cartoon fairies and pretty creatures that _The Last Unicorn_ and _Fern Gully_ showcased and not what magical horror you're seeing. But instead of letting that get in your way, you exhale. And,

"I'm the Vinculum." you tell the cat-eyed faerie. "I'm the one who will bring balance to all races and genders, all of the world and its counterparts, all species of creatures."

The fey smirks. "Now that sounds like the ________ I know."

You frown. "You knew me? What was I, a celebrity or something?" you wonder. "The more I learn about me being a reincarnation of myself, the freakier it gets." you confess to the fey. "So, which life did you know me in, ah, I mean, if I'm not breaking any faerie rules asking that."

Cat-eyes grins. "In one of your lives, you were a faerie, a mere daffodil faerie who almost completed the stages of the Vinculum trials. But you fell in love with a fern fey, and fell victim to his charms. You were almost through when a human killed you." Their voice is monotonous, dead. But from the way they regard you, the way the faerie is standing, you can almost guess a sense of grief. "You were thought to be a firefly and died in a small child's bedroom in 1835."

For a moment, your mind is blank. 

Then, "How - how could I be a faerie? I'm human. I'm a human being, and - oh my gosh, that means I could be all sorts of things, didn't it?" you ask.

The fey snorts. "If I recall, it was the next life you were turned into a werewolf, but these questions are not what you are supposed to be asking, ________ ________." The cat-eyed faerie reminds you. "You are to ask me now where the fey piece of the puzzle is, and I am to reply with nonchalant sobriety at no knowledge of its whereabouts, and then you continue your search to bother another clan," the fey snarks.

 "But you do know where it is," you frown.

They smile. "Why yes, I do." The cat-eyed faerie replies. "It's within me. But I can assure you, ______, if you are to extract it from me, I shall die. I've been around on this plane for a thousand years more than your soul has, and much longer on the faerie domain. And once I die, you shall be transported back to the people you care so deeply for, and the angels." They tell you. "This much I can promise."

You nod, and slowly, you move forward. "Where - where is it located?"

Reaching out, the fey gathers your hands, and places them in the centre of their chest. "If you do it right now, I shall be freed from this pain. I will be one with the earth, where I belong."

You nod. "I'll try to make it swift. It's a skill I've acquired recently." 

You feel the familiar tugging sensation, and closing your eyes to shield it from the blinding green light, you feel the air around you tremble, and swell, and all at once, your body grows and swells and breaks and - 

 

 

 

"You've completed the trials, _______." Chuck smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg cliff hanger! please murder me I hate this story ugh


	16. Cheer Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...I can't believe it. It's over!

"Congratulations," Chuck-God smiles. "You've made it here, after all these years. Oh, if only I could go back, and tell you it finally happens, if not a millennia late." His eyes widen, and he adds quickly, "I could, you know."

You look around. It seems you're in a kind of office, like a writing room. It's made of mostly bookshelves, and you're seating in a chair, facing the desk at which Chuck sits. A typewriter sits dusty to the side of the mounds of paper, and a little bobble-head toy whose head sways from the last time it had been touched.  

"Am I dead?" you whisper.

Chuck takes a breath. "I wasn't expecting _that_ from you, ________. Maybe a thank you? You've done what I needed to have done all those years ago but failed. You've restored balance to the world of the supernatural, and with that, comes sacrifice. It's a heavy price, let me tell you. People blaspheme my name all the time - oh my god this, and holy Jesus that, it's not like I go around cussing with their names. There's no respect for the sacrifices you do."

Your head feels heavy all of a sudden. "So I am dead."

Chuck nods. "Almost maybe dead."

You glance up. "What?" you whisper. "I thought there was alive, and dead, and on the off-chance, miracles. Not ' _almost maybe dead_ '."

Chuck takes a hand, and ruffles his beard through it. "I know. I'm a terrible God. I just like it when people are more than plot devices! I've screwed you around since day one, kiddo. And not even from this life, all of them. You were meant to be a faceless person I destine for pain and suffering, yet...yet you manage to make something else of yourself. Each time, you deviate from your path, to seek something more than you've known." he takes a breath, and adds, "I want to apologise for it."

Slowly, you fingers make themselves into fists. But just as you are about to raise them, you feel something wash over you. Something that feels so holy, so pure that the rage that had built from the pit of your stomach to poison your emotions dissipates. "In your own words, Chuck," you grit out. "You're forgiven." Your gaze wanders, somehow back to the typewriter. "What's that there for?"

Chuck shrugs. "Did the Winchesters ever tell you they're a part of a book series?"

"Oh my gosh..." your eyes widen, and at this, you gasp. "You've been writing about us all! That's - that's why whatever I do, it leads to the same path. That's how you intervened with Dean and I before we retired, how you found us when we were laying low - you've written our destinies for us! It's all a lie!" you all but scream. "Am I just a plot device, God? Or am I being with free will and hopes and dreams and is dead because of your plan?" 

A tear falls.

"Almost maybe dead," he reminds you. "And I'll have you know, I gave up that old thing when you found out you were The Vinculum. That's been all on you."

You blink. "R-really?" you look to your hands, and gasp. For the first time in what seems like ages, they have no luminescence to them. For once, your skin looks like skin. "I made all that happen?"

Chuck chuckles. "Yeah you did, heroine. But before you go all mushy and emotional on me, remember you're still the badass ________ you grew up to be." Chuck reminds you. "So, now's the part where you decide to go completely dead or very much completely alive. Your call, kiddo."

Your mouth opens and closes, and then, "Will this mean I'm free to live as whoever I please?" you implore. 

Chuck nods. "Hunter, civilian, hairdresser, whatever. It's your call."

"And Dean? He's free to - free to live with me? No more 'holy plot twists' to keep us apart?" you add cautiously. 

God takes a deep breath. "Of course. You've done what's needed to be done. All is well."

You place a hand on your midsection. "And you know that child you took away from Dean and I? I'd like them back. And for Sam to live happily." you request. "I know I can't truly trust you. You've ruined my lives more times than I can count." 

Chuck scrunches his nose. "Got to have a little faith, _______. But, my word is law. Cheer up, ________, no need to have that apocryphal stare; what you ask will be done." Chuck stands, and crosses to your side of the desk. He's wearing a small poncho, decorated with hand-woven llamas and chilli clusters, is barefoot and in cotton pants. In this room, he appears to be simply one degree off from homeless, but to the trained eye, and the hunter who has seen enough of God in her lifetime, you know that this is simply the most powerful being in the world who acts for the good of all. "Now, I never heard what your choice was."

Slowly, you stand. "I want to live. Like I've always wanted to live."

He smiles. "And, so it shall be."

 

 

 

Your eyes open, and coming into focus, is the first face you should ever wish to see, and the last. Dean's green eyes are wide, and full of tears, and before you know it, yours are too. Despite the fact that you had negotiated your way around death with God, and won your life back. 

"I thought you were dead," his tears splash on your cheeks. You swipe them away. 

"You've died plenty of times, Dean," you reach up, and caress his cheek. "I couldn't let you have all the fun."

He chuckles.

"And I bargained with God." you add. Dean's eyes widen. "I got us our lives back. No interference. Free to live as hunters or as civilians. Free to do whatever we please, whenever we please, with no chance of being in the next room or no with God's children and Sammy nearby."

Dean chuckles. "I'll always choose you, with what freedom I have. I'll always love you, with all that I have. And," he continues, laying his head low, beside yours, "I'll always be with you, no matter what." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY FRICK IT IS OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this was such a shitty fanfic. Forgive me maybe?
> 
> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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